Pilot Episode — "The Street Dog Bites Back"
The wind bit through the thin holes in Kujo's jacket. New York nights were cruel in December — a slow, gnawing cold that sank into bones and refused to leave. The streets hummed with life a few blocks away, but here, in the shadow of the alley's brick walls, Kujo may as well have been invisible.
A garbage can clattered over behind him. He didn't flinch.
Two men emerged, their silhouettes tall and wrong in ways the human mind didn't want to process. One's skin shimmered like scales under a streetlamp. The other's eyes burned faintly red. Interplanetary scavengers. Kujo had seen their type before — they prowled the edges of cities, hunting runaways, addicts, and anyone else who wouldn't be missed.
The taller one grinned, revealing too many teeth.
"Rank one," he said, voice oily. "Perfect. Nice and easy."
Kujo stayed silent. Words didn't stop beatings.
The first punch cracked into his ribs, folding him to the concrete. The pain came sharp, then dull. He spat blood. The other scavenger kicked him, sending his body against the frozen wall. His mind swam, his vision a blur of gray and light.
This is it, he thought. No one's coming. Not this time.
The taller one knelt, gripping Kujo's collar. "Nothing personal, street rat. You're just worth more dead."
Then — it happened.
A sound. Not from the alley. From inside his skull.
A low, resonant hum, as if the air itself had begun to vibrate.
[Awakening Protocol Detected]
[Candidate: Kujo]
[Rank: 1]
[Combat Capacity: 0%]
[Objective: Survive the encounter]
Kujo's vision snapped into clarity. A burning heat spread through his limbs, not pain — something deeper, raw and electric.
The scavenger reeled back to strike again, but Kujo's hand shot up, catching his wrist. Neither man seemed more surprised than Kujo himself.
The grip was unshakable.
"What the—" the scavenger began.
Kujo moved without thinking. His elbow drove into the alien's chest. The impact rattled Kujo's own bones, but the scavenger stumbled back, choking. Kujo didn't wait. He lunged, low and fast, tackling the other one at the knees. They crashed to the ground, rolling in a tangle of limbs.
He wasn't fighting with skill. He wasn't fighting with technique. He was fighting like a cornered dog. And for the first time in years, that was enough.
A headbutt split the scaled one's lip. A wild punch cracked into his jaw. Kujo's knuckles tore open, but he didn't care. The red-eyed one tried to pull him off — Kujo drove his fist into the alien's throat.
The fight ended in a heap of bodies and heavy breathing. Kujo was on top, his chest heaving, his knuckles dripping with blood that wasn't all his.
[Battle Complete]
[Victory Achieved]
[Level Increased: 0 → 10]
[New Ability Unlocked: Instinct Combat]
The voice in his head was calm, mechanical.
[Description: Instinct Combat — User reacts with maximum efficiency to immediate threats without conscious delay.]
Kujo staggered to his feet, the two scavengers groaning on the ground. His whole body trembled, but not from fear. From something else — power, thrumming under his skin like a second heartbeat.
His reflection in a cracked storefront window caught his attention.
It wasn't the same face. His jaw looked sharper. His eyes — clearer. His shoulders had widened ever so slightly.
And for the first time, he didn't see a street rat. He saw a fighter.
⸻
The alley was silent except for the distant wail of sirens. Kujo reached into the taller scavenger's pocket, pulling out a strange, silver disc. The surface pulsed faintly when he touched it.
[Item Acquired: Interplanetary Transport Token]
[Destination Slot: 1]
[Nearest World: Crathis-4 — Desert Class]
The name meant nothing to him, but the token's glow drew him in.
The voice in his head spoke again:
[Next battle required to maintain rank. Failure will result in de-leveling.]
"Maintain… rank?" Kujo muttered, staring at the disc. "I just got here."
But even as he spoke, part of him understood. The fight hadn't been the end. It was the beginning.
Kujo returned to his alley's corner. His body still ached, but the gnawing cold had dulled. He could feel the strength, faint but growing, every time his muscles moved.
He looked at the token again. Something deep in him whispered that once he left this planet, there'd be no coming back — not as the same man.
"Fine," he said to no one. "Let's see where this goes."
The disc's light flared.
The alley vanished.
⸻
He was standing in heat so thick it felt like a weight. Sand stretched to the horizon, broken only by jagged black stone and distant spires. Two suns burned overhead. The sky shimmered with distortion.
A voice, not the mechanical one, but low and menacing, echoed from the rocks:
"New blood."
A figure emerged, towering and draped in cloth that rippled in the dry wind. Its arms were as thick as tree trunks, its eyes hidden behind a mask of bone.
"Rank ten?" the figure said, stepping closer. "You won't survive a minute."
Kujo clenched his fists. His heartbeat was steady. His body remembered the alley — the desperation, the fight. Only this time, he wasn't starting from nothing.
The sand shifted under the giant's feet as he charged.
Kujo's mind emptied. His body moved.
The fight for his life began again.